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Thursday, August 30, 2012

I have spent the last week intently pouring through digital copies of Jugend magazine, held by Heidelberg University. So far, the university has put online the years 1897 through 1927. This was a weekly art, humor and human interest magazine. I have looked at so many illustrations, I now see everything with an illustrated eye - our cats have black lines around them, as does the furniture, the trees, and each piece of the gravel in the drive. It's a very curious phenomenon.

This blog is about some of the German art that made me do a double-take. The magazine often depicted centaurs. I exclaimed when I saw the one above; not what you would expect from watching Disney's animated movie Fantasia.

Artist: Gertrud Pfeiffer-Kohrt

This one of God painting the animals made me smile and look closely.

Artist: G. Hirth

The magazine during its Art Nouveau period often printed art of mermaids. I thought this sea nymph so poignant, it would make a good ad for Green Peace.

"What is she thinking?" I wondered. I don't read German, so I never discovered.

Artist: August Geigenberger

I thought this print would look nice on my bathroom wall until I saw her misshapen face. People lost their teeth early in those days, so her face probably wasn't out-of-the-ordinary to a viewer of the time. Maybe.

Artist: Fritz Erler

Jugend published nude art in every issue until the late twenties. I suspect some type of law was passed that curtailed it. I think she's supposed to be illuminated by moonlight, which lies behind her. I refer to her as "jaundice girl." Still, she's rather lovely.

Artist: Richard Muller (Dresden)

Mice as art rather than as an illustration for a children's book.

Artist: Richard Muller (Dresden)

I'm almost certain the mice in this bag of maize were not to illustrate an article on the protection of food storage and health.

The toadstool mother looks especially forlorn to have such a family - but it certainly got my attention.

Artist: Paul Rieth (Munich)

The advent of the automobile inspired this artist. Note how upset the subjects are - they are just realizing the speed kills.

Artist: Alois Wierer

This does look like an illustration for a children's book, but who knows? It's called the Hex Garden.

I did say that it was intended to be a magazine of humor. This might have been published after the magazine ceased printing nude art.

World War I brought a change to the magazine. The yearly flamboyant Carnival issues (which I will address in another blog) ceased. The rest of 1914 though about 1916 were intensely patriotic.

The German eagle protecting the Fatherland. Note the carving of the Valkyrie in the cliff.

Artist: Leo Putz

This depicted the successful invasion of Russia. I'd never thought of the Russian bear as being a polar bear.

Women's skirts were shortened during the war to save fabric, but not this high. A bit of humor around 1917. She's actually wearing buttoned leggings for modesty's sake.

After the Great War, humor returned in full force to the pages of Jugend. I think this was published for one of the carnival issues.

There was feminism in Germany. Note that the man bows his head before the great mother, but the woman raises her arms in adoration. This is from the early 20s.

Artist: Leo Putz

I'm leaving the most surprising for last. There was a third showing a snail man and a snail woman making love, which I decided not to publish.

Sunday, August 26, 2012

In our new house, I will have mostly exclusive use of the master bath (Jay got it during the 19 years we lived in Laramie). It has a lot of wall space which I intend to decorate to please myself, so I can soak in my deep tub and contemplate. I'm even opting for a stand-alone towel rack to preserve the walls for -- copies of old magazine illustrations. I have a penchant for illustrated art, especially from the arts and crafts / art nouveau / and even art deco eras. And look at the work of Coles Phillips (1880-1927), an artist I've discovered on the Internet.

Before there was Bev Doolittle, whose reputation lies in pinto ponies disappearing among aspen groves, there was Coles Phillips, who used negative space - actually -- to save his magazine production costs.

Phillips first worked for Life magazine (not the one we know), and presented his first "fade-away girl" on a cover in 1908.

He was Good Housekeeping's sole cover artist from 1912 through 1914.

He always worked with life models. In 1907 he met Teresa Hyde, who became his most frequent model. They married in 1910.

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Unfortunately, he suffered from tuberculosis of the kidney and died at the relatively young age of 47 in 1927.

He had one hobby, which he'd begun when he was a boy of eight in Ohio. He raised pigeons.

Look him up on the Internet. He produced other wonderful illustrations for advertising and more magazine covers.

Saturday, August 4, 2012

On our way out from Red Ives, Cheryl, Donovan and I stopped in Avery, Idaho for ice. Now having only 53 permanent residents, Avery was from 1909 until 1980 a division point for the Milwaukee Road Railroad. The only way in and the only way out for the residents was by train (or a trail) -- but that was alright because nearly everyone worked for the railroad and had family passes. The Milwaukee Road is no more, so now a road runs through this hamlet in a narrow canyon on the St. Joe River.

An old Milwaukee Road dining car is a local attraction.

Dining Car

Dining car kitchen

I'm working on a novel set in the Marble Creek Basin during World War I when the U.S. Army took control of the lumber industry to insure there would be wood for ships and aeroplanes; and the federal and state governments suppressed the activities of the I.W.W. (Wobblies) to unionize loggers. So, we stopped at the Forest Service Marble Creek Interpretive Center where Marble Creek enters the St. Joe River. It had been closed for the season last fall when Jay and I first drove into the basin. What a wonderful exhibit of old photos and history.

Painting on saw blade of steam donkey and old-time logging.

Then we headed up Marble Creek. I wanted to share with Cheryl and Donovan what Jay and I had seen the previous autumn.

Marble Creek, one of the great early white pine timber sources
from about 1900 through the 1930s. Logs were driven down it
to the St. Joe River in the spring.

Eventually, the Forest Service road took us to Hobo Cedar Grove. These red cedars are about 500 years old. It was white pine the loggers wanted, not cedar. Even the forest fires that swept through didn't damage these wonderful trees on 240 acres.

Donovan and big cedar.

Off the beaten path, we were the only visitors for most of our trek along the trail.

In February I entered a lottery and won three days at Red Ives Ranger Station in the St. Joe National Forest in the Idaho Panhandle. It's such a popular rental, The Forest Service has had to use the lottery system. About 500 entries for 50 vacation slots. Jay stayed home with Pepper because dogs aren't allowed. So, my party consisted of my son Donovan, our neighbor Cheryl and me. Just as well - the SUV was packed to the gills. It was about a four and a half-hour drive, much of it up the beautiful St. Joe River, which empties into Lake Coeur d'Alene.

Headwaters of St. Joe River in National Forest near Red Ives.

We hiked; we did a little exploring; we read on the porch; and Cheryl and I played ten games of Scrabble by lantern light. Although wired for electricity, run by a generator, when a Forest Service family was in residence, the cabin now retains only hot and cold running water, a gas stove and a propane-cooled refrigerator. We discovered we didn't really need electric lights.

Cheryl and Donovan on hike.

Red Ives Ranger Station was named for an early prospector. The cabin was built by the CCC in 1936. It retains much of its original architectural embellishments.